


I hope you can hear me

by ILoveFANFic



Series: An angel and his hunter. A hunter and his angel [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But also spoilers from past seasons, But he goes back after he hears THE prayer, Canon Divergent after 15x3, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester hug, Castiel has moved on after 15x3, Castiel leaving the bunker in 15x3, Castiel's Handprint (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, Dean asking Castiel to leave the bunker (season 9), Dean giving Castiel his trenchcoat back after the lake scene, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Destiel songs, Episode: s15e09 The Trap - Dean Winchester's Prayer Scene, Forgiving each other, He has a job and new friends, He loves music and listens to Spotify, Hopeful Castiel (Supernatural), Hopeful Ending, Like, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Reference to Dean’s time in Hell, Reference to Purgatory (season 6), Season/Series 15 Spoilers, The most destiel of destiel moments from past seasons, This is basically 9k to remind us all what an incredible human Dean Winchester is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22990951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveFANFic/pseuds/ILoveFANFic
Summary: In spite of his failing powers, Castiel hears the most important prayer of all.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: An angel and his hunter. A hunter and his angel [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652266
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	I hope you can hear me

**Author's Note:**

> Like 15x3, also 15x9 gave me so many feels I had to grab my keyboard and start writing. But then I had my WIP to finish (btw, it’s posting and it’s pretty darn cute, if I say so myself, so if you’re looking for a feel good fic, check [Wrap you up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578493/chapters/53956210) ), and then work was hell, and that brings us to today. Considering we have this mini hellatus to deal with until SPN comes back tho, I’m not even that late to the party lol.
> 
> This is definitely less sad than the previous fic, but it is linked to that. For those who’d rather not read it, just know that in the first part of this fic, and a few other times along the way, Castiel refers to the OCs he made friends with in the previous fic.
> 
> As it turns out, this series is becoming a weird hybrid of salient Destiel moments from past seasons, cherry-picked Destiel moments from this season, the world I have somehow built in the first installment, and my obsession with what I think of as ultimate Destiel songs. Meaning: this is me trying to make sense of the mess that it is canon Destiel, while also making them do what I wish they’d do and giving my interpretation of key scenes I’ve obsessed over for years based on my headcanon. Basically, just your regular FF :-D
> 
> This also means that I have no idea if I’ll add to this, like I didn’t when I posted [Let each other go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21285653) . This series is closely linked to this last season, and it’s from there that I draw my inspiration. Just like I couldn’t imagine we’d have ep. 15x9 when I posted the first fic, I can’t imagine (or better, I don’t want to) what they’ll do with the finale. I might add something based on that, or I might wrap this up with a completely different story. I just don’t know at this stage.
> 
> For now, please enjoy Dean and Cas finding their way back to each other and if you feel so inclined, come chat with me in the comments 😘

Ever since he lost his wings, Castiel had often regretted being unable to fly. He missed the ability to just go somewhere in a matter of seconds without having to be anchored to the ground.

How fiercely he hated gravity.

He wished he could regain the ability to just fly to the other end of the world to watch the sun rise on the green of the Amazon or the golden of the desert. And the ability to be exactly where the people who needed him were in the blink of an eye.

If he still had that ability, his arms would be around Maggie right now.

Castiel hated hearing her cry like that over the phone. He had known that that Carl guy was trouble all along.

After leaving Dean at the motel, Castiel had done the only thing he could think of doing: he went to the only other place he was familiar with. He spent the night crying all of his tears in the back alley of the diner and waited for it to open. Then, knowing his eyes were red and puffy even without needing to look at himself in the mirror, he told Sue that he had to leave. He had debated just leaving town without stopping by the diner, fearing, and half hoping if he had to be honest with himself, that Dean might follow him. He decided against it though. He knew Sue, Maggie and Àngel would worry about him if he just vanished like that. And he didn’t want to go without saying goodbye either. They had come to mean to him, and he wouldn’t mind having a chance to hug them one last time.

Sue told him she understood, but she wished he could have given her a few days’ notice, because his sudden departure would complicate things for her at the diner. That’s when he replied, on instinct, that he could stay for one more week, so she could look for someone to hire in his place. He knew it was risky, with Dean now knowing his whereabouts, but he couldn’t bring himself to let Sue down. She had been so kind, and it was the least that he could do.

And it would give him one more week with his new friends, and some time to get used to the idea of having to say goodbye. He had already had to leave his friends, his family, without a chance to say goodbye and any time to prepare himself for it, when he had left the bunker. He’d rather not have to do the same thing again in this case.

He resolved not to use his phone during that week and switched it off entirely. He only dared to go back to the motel two days after Dean’s visit, when he thought the chances of him still being there were next to none. Since he wasn’t leaving in a hurry after all, he wanted to retrieve his belongings. His bag with his old clothes, the novels he had bought, and his new clothes. For obvious reasons, he had never been one for earthly possessions, but he found that the idea of departing from those objects was unsettling. He figured it was because they weren’t so much objects as they were symbols. Symbols of the strength he had found to move on, even when his heart was shattered into a billion pieces. And reminders that, like he had done it once, he could do it again.

It was during that week that Carl started visiting the diner, always during Maggie’s shift. He was good-looking, cocky, and with a give-‘em-hell attitude. He reminded Castiel of a younger Dean Winchester who still had a good day every once in a while. Which was how Castiel knew that Maggie didn’t stand a chance. Just like he himself never did.

Unlike Dean, however, Carl didn’t have the brightest soul. Far from it. Castiel tried to talk about it with Maggie, but she dismissed all his worries, telling him she knew what she was doing.

He had already decided to buy a new phone and get himself a new number before leaving town, so that he could give it to his friends to keep in touch and possibly arrange to meet again one day, but the appearance of Carl in Maggie’s life solidified that decision. She would need a friend sooner rather than later.

The phone call Castiel had just had was evidence enough. Castiel hated being right sometimes. Not that he was right all the time. But he hated to be right in situations like this.

“Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me.”

Castiel was so startled he looked around frantically for a few moments, before realizing Dean wasn’t in his rented apartment. Dean’s voice was in his head.

Dean was _praying_ to him.

And Castiel could hear him. Perfectly.

How was that possible? His powers were _failing_. He hadn’t heard any prayer with that much clarity in so long. In all fairness, he didn’t think anybody had prayed to him in all that time. He had asked Dean not to do that. He still talked to Sam regularly, even though he always made sure to go out of town to do that, in case Sam had ended up telling his brother about Castiel’s new number and Dean was tempted to track him down again. And he had told Sam to warn Jody, Donna and every other hunter they regularly worked with to let Sam know in case they needed Castiel, and the younger Winchester would pass the message along.

So why now? Why could he hear Dean as clearly as if he was in the same room? Might not using his powers in so long have helped with it? It made sense, considering he hadn’t further depleted the little grace he still had, and which he was clearly using now.

“And wherever you are, it’s not too late. I should have stopped you. You’re my best friend but I just let you go. ‘Cause that was easier than admitting I was wrong.”

Was Dean crying?

“I don’t know why-, I don’t know why I get so angry. I just know-, I know it’s, it’s just always been there. And when things go bad, it just-, it comes out. And I-, I can’t stop it. No matter how bad I want to. I just can’t stop it. And I-, and I forgive you. _Of course_ I forgive you. I’m sorry it took me so long”

He most definitely was. It was a sniff the sound Castiel had just heard.

“I’m sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I’m so sorry.”

Castiel had stopped breathing. He didn’t need to. But he had learnt to do it automatically, out of habit. So as to always pass for a human. But he wasn’t breathing now. He was paralyzed. Dean was certainly crying. He was crying even more now than when he had started his prayer.

“Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me.”

Dean Winchester, the righteous man, one of the smartest, strongest, bravest, more reckless hunters in the world, had finished his prayer on a sob. He was crying, and sobbing, for Castiel. Apologizing and offering his unconditional forgiveness.

Did Dean want Castiel to know that he was sorry and that he was forgiven so that, even though they would never meet again, Castiel might live the rest of his life with a clearer conscience?

Or was he asking him to go back? Could that possibly be what Dean was asking for, even after Castiel had already refused to go back to the bunker when Dean had come looking for him and found him in his motel room?

He hadn’t said it, not explicitly. But could the first scenario warrant such a reaction? All those tears, that desperation?

Maybe Dean was intoxicated? He certainly abused alcohol more often than not. Especially when dealing with troublesome events he didn’t think he could fix. He didn’t _sound_ drunk though. Castiel had seen, and heard, and healed, a drunk Winchester enough times that he could tell the difference. No, he wasn’t drunk. He was sad. More than that, he sounded desperate.

Castiel didn’t know what to do with himself. He was stunned. Never in a million years would he have expected what had just happened to happen. A little smile appeared on his face without his permission. Not the first time he underestimated his love. He should have learnt a lot of time ago not to ever do that. Dean Winchester would always surprise him, just like he surprised anyone else.

He certainly didn’t know what to say, or think, but he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , ignore what he had just heard.

Dean had prayed to him. Not only that. He had offered him his tears, his pain, his regret, his apologies, his forgiveness, his absolution.

Castiel couldn’t ignore that.

Not when he had spent months trying to patch up his heart and soul after finally accepting that he would never have any of those things. And now he had them all.

But that was the thing. Those months spent apart. Thinking about that stopped his growing happiness and hope.

There had been a reason why Castiel had left. Dean hadn’t given him a choice. He simply couldn’t forgive him, and couldn't move on. He was so angry. _Too_ angry. Castiel had left, but Dean hadn’t stopped him. Castiel’s eyes _implored_ Dean to stop him. But Dean let him go. And he let him go at the motel too. Even though Castiel could admit to himself that that had probably a lot to do with how stunned Dean himself had been after hearing Castiel’s words.

“ _Of course_ I forgive you,” Dean had said in his prayer.

But could Castiel forgive Dean?

Dean had called him his best friend, again. It wasn’t the first time Dean did that. Castiel could still remember, clear as day, when Dean told him “You’re always there, you know? You’re the best friend we’ve ever had. You’re our brother Cas, I want you to know that.” He had said that while driving, of course, trying to keep his eyes on the road more than on the angel. Castiel had done the same, had tried not to look at Dean while he was speaking. They were in the middle of the fight between Chuck and Amara, the last world-ending threat in a list of world-ending threats that had got longer and longer in time. He couldn’t resist though, not until the end, and had to look at his hunter while all he could do was to choke out a totally inadequate “Thank you.” Dean was about to sacrifice himself and wanted to make sure Castiel knew he loved him, even though it was brotherly love the only kind of love he could confess outright.

“Best friend”, “brother”. Those words meant so much to Dean. Sam, his biological brother, had always been the most important person in Dean’s life, the one constant he could never do without, the person he had protected as fiercely as a God, standing up to Hell and Heaven alike, making reckless, questionable deals and decisions. How different was the notion of ‘brother’ Dean and Castiel had, at first. Castiel had thousands of brothers. Perfect, obedient, winged and grace-powered soldiers like him. But, as much as some of them were dear to him, like Balthazar, he didn’t love any of them even remotely as much as Dean and Sam loved each other. Or as Castiel had come to love the Winchester brothers in the years he’d spent with them on Earth. During that conversation, the two of them alone in Baby, Castiel already loved Sam like a brother, like Dean loved Sam. And he loved Dean. Not like a brother, not like Sam loved him. 

But Dean had called Castiel a brother. He had called him family. Because Castiel was always _there_.

Castiel had left though. And Dean hadn’t stopped him. And was now apologizing for it. And not even shrugging it off. A full out apology. Admitting where he had gone wrong, saying he was sorry. Saying he had forgiven him. But had Castiel forgiven Dean? Better still, could he go back to him, knowing they might never get to where Castiel really wanted them to go? To where Dean, deep down, wanted them to go?

This was not the first time Castiel had left Dean, and even though they had somehow always found their way back to each other, none of those separations had left them unscathed.

The rift between them had been created in Purgatory, Castiel knew that, as hard as it was for him to admit it. It had started with his decision to stay away from Dean for the entire year they spent there.

“I prayed to you Cas, _every night_ ,” Dean had shouted to his face – anger the most prominent of the feelings on the beautiful face of the hunter, whose perfection not even a year spent fighting monsters had managed to alter. But it was hurt what that anger was masking. Dean had been hurt by Castiel’s choice so deeply. Castiel had told him the truth, that he had done that to protect him. Which shouldn’t have been surprising – and maybe it wasn’t – since whatever Castiel did was always, first and foremost, to help and protect the same one man. But Dean had replied, in no uncertain terms, that he wouldn’t leave without him. So Castiel did the thing he loathed doing the most. He lied to Dean. He told him he would follow him to the portal, as unsure as he was that he could pass through. Knowing he wouldn’t even try to pass through. He had pulled away, because Purgatory was where Castiel belonged, because of the things he had done in Heaven and on Earth.

He was still very much a soldier back then, so he had thought of himself and his need to repent before thinking about Dean, about how that would have affected him. Even though Dean had, somehow, been able to rationalize Castiel’s staying away while in Purgatory to protect him – although Dean could have left but he hadn’t until he found Castiel, and even went as far as telling him he _needed_ him and that he wasn’t leaving without him, because nobody would get “left behind” – Castiel knew that Dean had never been able to accept Castiel pulling away.

Because, as much as Castiel had no way of knowing that at the time, Dean had to process both his brother not looking for him and going on with his life _and_ his best friend not walking through that portal even though Dean had fought tooth and nail, literally, to allow him to.

All because he had chosen to “do penance” instead of acknowledging and rewarding Dean’s hard work to get them both out. “I planned to stay all along, I just didn’t know how to tell you”, Castiel had confessed to him. Only to be haunted, from that moment on, by Dean’s distraught expression when he realized Castiel had deliberately lied to him. Or, at the very least, withheld vital information. “You can’t save everyone my friend, though you try” Castiel had added, as a final attempt at making Dean understand the blame fell entirely with Castiel, not with the hunter.

Dean had nothing to blame himself for.

Castiel had been _so_ stupid.

Dean hadn’t just tried to do the right thing. Maybe that’s what he had told himself to be able to accept it. But, in truth, Dean had desperately, viciously, relentlessly tried to bring one of the people he cared about the most back to Earth with him. He didn’t want to save Castiel _just_ for Castiel. He wanted to save him for himself too. Not only to prevent Castiel from being stuck in Purgatory alone. But also to avoid Dean being stuck on Earth without Castiel.

How many things that were crystal clear hadn’t Castiel seen because he was blinded by his obedience to God. A god that had turned out to be a giant dick. “Nobody gets left behind” got turned into Castiel _forcing_ Dean to leave him behind and then feel so guilty about not saving him that Dean’s mind had rearranged the events to make Dean the bad guy. Making him “feel like hell for failing him like he failed every godforsaken thing he cared about.”

Castiel regretted doing that. Had regretted doing that every day, ever since the day he had to see Dean’s devastated face when realization hit that Castiel hadn’t wanted to follow him through the portal. He regretted not having chosen his hunter over his mission.

No wonder Dean had never made a move after that. How could he trust Castiel enough to do that? When the two people he loved the most had both chosen a different path when Dean was _right there_ , at his most vulnerable, waiting for them?

So, could he now blame Dean for not choosing Castiel over his own anger?

It had been years since Purgatory though. They had gone through so much. Castiel wouldn’t have made that mistake again now.

The keyword was ‘now’, though, wasn’t it?

How many mistakes had Castiel made when he was the perfect soldier, and Dean had to forgive him for, and teach him not to do again?

The first mistake was not realizing for so long that he was in love with the hunter. Not even when the evidence was right there, from the start.

He had _hated_ seeing Anna kiss Dean, so much so that he had to drop his gaze. He was so confused back then, and couldn’t understand why that was. Anna had been right when she said Castiel didn’t know what feelings were. He didn’t back then. Even though he had started to feel them, he didn’t know what they were, how to recognize them, or control them. He hadn’t known then, and didn’t realize for a long time, that the reason why he couldn’t stand watching her kiss the righteous man was not understandable indignation for a sinful act between an angel and a human, but _jealousy_. He had wanted to be in her place, to share with Dean what the two of them had clearly shared.

He struggled with his emerging feelings for so long. When they were sealed inside that room, waiting for Zachariah to arrive so that Dean could say yes to Michael, he even got as far as asking Dean outright. “What is so worth saving?” he had demanded. And then he had added something he would never tell Dean outright now. “I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You’ll be at peace. Even with Sam.” Dean had been so shocked. Back then, Castiel thought it was because of Castiel’s inability to understand humanity and Dean and Sam’s battle to save the world in spite of what had been written. Now, though, now he thought it was at least partially due to Dean’s realization that Castiel knew every single thing he had done in Hell. Castiel was aware, but didn’t understand back then, not like he did now, that his time as Alastair’s protégé in Hell was still what Dean couldn’t forgive himself for. What he still had nightmares about. What made Dean certain he deserved eternal damnation for, without any possibility of redemption.

Whenever Castiel listened to _Right Here_ , the song that had played that one time in the kitchen of the diner – and that was now the most listened to track on this app, Spotify, Maggie had insisted he downloaded on his phone when she realized how much music had grown on Castiel – Hell was always what the angel associated with the line “ _heal the brokenness within_ ”. Dean had so many reasons to feel broken. But those forty years in Hell were, and always would be, the main source of that brokenness. He truly was the righteous man. He tortured himself whenever he did something even slightly harmful to someone else, even when the circumstances forced him to. Having been the torturer himself would never – could never – be forgiven, or forgotten.

Castiel had learnt since then. He had never mentioned out loud again that he could still see inside of Dean. Or that he knew about his pain, or his longing, or his love for the angel.

He had started learning soon after that infamous conversation. In fact, it was then – when he was presented with the choice between Dean and heaven – that Castiel stopped playing his part, the part that God himself, disguised as a failed writer with a drinking problem, had written for him. “You guys aren't supposed to be there. You're not in this story!”, that awful, absent father that told them. Castiel would never forget Dean’s proud and awed reaction when he replied “Yeah well, we're making it up as we go.” Castiel couldn’t have predicted, that day, exactly how far he would go in his rebellion to protect the Winchesters and this world, and how many unforgivable mistakes he himself would have made. But the moment he consciously decided to help the two hunters avert the apocalypse was the moment Castiel became Castiel.

In every sense.

He started getting rid of Heaven’s programming – so much so he would prove able, years later, to break even Naomi’s hold on his mind when she pushed him as close as he ever got to hurt Dean irreparably, at least physically. The same way Dean later proved able to fight even the Mark of Cain in order not to kill Castiel. That’s how profound their bond was. None of them could ever hurt the other beyond reparation, no matter how strong any external source holding them hostage might be. 

And, as painful as it was to think about and as guilty as he would always feel toward Jimmy and his family, especially Claire, that was also when Castiel’s vessel became his body. From the moment God brought him back during the fight to avert the apocalypse, every single physical reaction he ever had was undoubtedly Castiel’s, not Jimmy’s.

Castiel couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over his face thinking about the first time he ever felt sexual arousal. He didn’t realize for a long time that it was carnal desire the tingling sensation Castiel had felt when Dean, sarcastically commenting on the intensity of his look, had told him that he had “got laid” the last time someone had looked at him like that. Castiel wanted to be the one who got to lay Dean down and ravish him _so much_.

It took him even longer to understand that that was also the reason why he had left his own handprint on Dean’s shoulder when he saved him from Hell – something he hadn’t done with other people he had saved. A handprint that, ashamed of himself even though he didn’t know that was what he was feeling in the moment, he had made sure to heal when Castiel healed Dean after Sam had fallen in the cage, dragging Michael along. Because, he knew now, he had fallen in love with Dean when he saw his soul shining bright in the darkness of Hell, and hadn’t been able to stop himself from marking him as his for everyone in Heaven, Hell and on Earth to see and know. The deepest shame had overcome him later on and, even though he had just started to come to terms with the incredibly messy spectrum that human feelings were, he made sure to erase his selfishness in that cemetery. Castiel had been unable to rationalize healing his handprint that day. He had barely started to acknowledge what love, carnal attraction and consent were. Consent, above all, was such an unknown concept for a programmed soldier like him. He knew that angels needed consent to take a human vessel. But Dean had being a good, if not always patient, teacher, and had shown him how those feelings and actions really worked. Dean had taught him that consent couldn’t be forced, through threats, or blackmails, or bribery. No, consent had to be given freely, wholeheartedly. Instead, Castiel had taken something without permission. And he was honestly glad that, even though he couldn’t fully understand why erasing that handprint had been so important back then, he had still done it. Because he wanted Dean to give himself to Castiel freely, wholeheartedly.

That was why Castiel had never told, and had no intention to ever tell, Dean that he knew the hunter loved him. Whatever reasons Dean had not to come forward, Castiel would never pressure him in any way.

“Whatever the reasons,” Castiel couldn’t help but say aloud, shaking his head and pouring all his frustration into the angry laugh that left his mouth without his permission.

One was spoilt for choice, when it came to pick out a reason why Dean had never, and might never, confess his love.

His sense of inadequacy, for example. Which, Castiel had always suspected, was to be traced back to the Great Chain of Being, the idea that there was a hierarchical order of the universe wanted by god himself, starting with him, then angels, then humans, then animals, plants and minerals. An idea which had had a pervasive power, especially in Western thought. Castiel supposed that was why humans often felt untitled to treat animals and exploit plants and minerals as if they owned them. Based on this idea, they did. They were superior and, as such, could do with them as they saw fit. And, well, it really sounded like Chuck to plant an idea like that in a whole world’s mind. An idea in which he was at the same time the beginning and the top. Self-centered like he was, he must have loved the notion of being on top of everything, looking down on angels, people, animals and plants and making sure that they knew it. Dean though. Self-deprecating as he was, he must have never been able to get rid of the notion that he was somehow _inferior_ to Castiel, who was an angel, while he was _just_ a human. Castiel had always feared that was one of the reasons why Dean never dared pushing for more between them.

Castiel knew Dean, and himself, and their relationship, enough to know that there wasn’t just one reason. There was a whole array of them, all tangled together, so entangled that it would probably be impossible to make heads or tails of them. Not unless they were both ready to really try, and be very, very patient. Their own traumas, what they had done to each other, or _for_ each other, what they had said to each other, their own fears, their individual personalities, how those personalities were sometimes bent and twisted when it came to the other, the admittedly continuous string of life-altering events they had been forced to deal with, all their mistakes, all their hopes, and dreams. But Castiel wouldn’t be surprised, _at all_ , if he was told that Dean thinking he wouldn’t be enough for him because he was ‘just a human’, and a broken one at that because of what he still perceived as his weakness in Hell, was one of the threads in that tangle. Maybe one of the shortest ones, but one nonetheless.

Because Dean couldn’t see – Castiel _knew_ he couldn’t, not completely at least – what an exceptional human he was. He didn’t think about the _thirty_ _years_ he spent facing unimaginable pain and torture. He could only see the ten when he hadn’t been able to. Castiel suspected that also had a lot to do with Alastair’s words about Dean not being strong enough to avoid breaking the first Seal. Castiel had tried even back then to let him understand that it wasn’t blame that fell on Dean, but fate. But he was already too late. Castiel would never forgive himself for that. And for asking Dean to torture Alastair for information and leaving him alone with the demon, because he hadn’t discovered Uriel’s betrayal on time.

His fear of abandonment and completely justified trust issues could very well be other reasons why Dean was still hiding, possibly even to himself, that he was in love with Castiel. Both Sam and Cas had abandoned him in Purgatory. For different reasons and in different ways. But with the same result. And they hadn’t been the only ones. Mary had too, when she had come back but chose to go hunting with the Man of Letters rather than staying and getting to known his grown up sons. Dean had been betrayed many times in his life, but the three people he cared about the most had all abandoned him, one way or another.

This fear, however, paled in comparison to what was Dean’s worst fear. That of being the cause of the death of the people who got too close to him. And it didn’t matter if that was true or not. Dean believe it was true, so that made it true.

Castiel could still feel how painful it had been to watch the brothers argue after they had managed to free Sam from Gadreel’s possession, on that bridge under the pouring rain. He had tried to give them at least the idea of privacy, but had been unable to step too far, not when he had finally both of them back in his life. Dean had been adamant to convince a crying Sam that Kevin’s blood was not on Sam’s hands but on his, and that he would burn for it. Again, the notion that he’d spend his afterlife in Hell. Kevin’s death certainly became one of the many items Dean had added to the list of reasons why he didn’t deserve happiness and was actually worse than the bad guys. A list that had grown longer and longer in time, with how little benefit of the doubt and understanding Dean reserved for himself.

But Castiel’s heart had broken, almost as painfully as when Dean had told him he had to leave the bunker, when he heard his love, the man with the brightest soul of all, ask his brother “Come on man, can’t you see? I'm-, I’m _poison_ , Sam. People get close to me they get killed... or worse. You know, I tell myself that I help more people than I hurt, and I tell myself that I am doing it all for the right reasons and I believe that. But I can’t, I won’t, drag anybody to the mud with me, not anymore.”

How painful had it been to stay on that bridge with Sam, and let Dean go, alone and defeated, thinking his presence was a death sentence for anyone in a 50 mile radius.

And _that_ was probably one of the items Dean had added to the list of reasons why he could never tell Cas, or anyone, that he loved them. He was terrified of losing the people he cared about, yes. But he was more terrified that they’d lose their lives for loving him in return. That was certainly true in the case of Castiel. No matter that Dean’s soul longed for him constantly and Castiel could feel that. Being a member of Team Free Will was dangerous enough. Castiel had already been more than once the Achilles’ heel demons, monsters and angels had tried to use to get to the Winchesters, to get to Dean. Castiel knew, just like Dean knew, that if they got involved in a romantic relationship and the supernatural world got a whiff of that, Castiel would have even a bigger target on his back.

And Dean already knew what it meant to lose him. The spike of panic waving off of Dean that Castiel had felt when he and Dean were talking in that motel room, and Castiel had confessed that he was afraid of going back to Heaven because seeing up close the devastation he had caused there might have brought him to put an end to his own life had likely being nothing in comparison to pain Dean must have felt when Castiel had been killed.

Killed by Raphael and the Leviathan. Even though Dean hadn’t seen it happen those time and had barely had any time to mourn his passing the first time before God resurrected him. And they weren’t even as close as they’d become later on. The second time though. Castiel couldn’t even begin to imagine what Dean must have gone through, spending all those months torn between mourning him and processing his betrayal. Not even an eternity would suffice for Castiel to forget the expression on Dean’s face when he saw Castiel, on that porch, going by the name of Emmanuel. Just like it wouldn’t suffice for Castiel to forget how _loved_ and _missed_ had made him feel when Dean gave him his trench coat back. A trench coat Dean had kept for months, in spite of his hurt and disappointment. In spite of him thinking he’d never see the angel again. 

Killed by April. The reaper Castiel regretted giving his virginity to, just because he was angry and hurt and totally disillusioned about ever going back to be a part of the Winchesters’ lives after Dean had asked him to leave the bunker. That had been the moment when he had realized he was in love with Dean. The moment he he had realized that his despair wasn’t only about losing his family and his home, and about having to learn how to live as a mortal all on his own. No, his despair was, first and foremost, about losing the man he loved, and about the man he loved throwing him away like that. The man he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for even a second as he was having intercourse with April. The man he was sure would make him feel so much _more_ , if he would ever make love to him. 

And killed by Lucifer. His rebellious ‘brother’, who had forced Dean, among other things, to see Castiel explode in a million pieces first and take an angel blade to the heart then. That time, Dean even had to watch his vessel burn.

How could all of this not have contributed to what was, ultimately, the summary of all that Dean had to go through and, consequently, the one true reason why Dean never expected or never looked for anything good to come his way? His complete inability to believe in happy endings?

Castiel would never forget the anguish and hopelessness he felt when he had to watch Dean lose control and shout “Every time! Every time we get close, it always falls apart! Every freaking time!” in front of him and Sam, before pushing everything off the table in anger, when he found out that Gabriel was gone, and the archangel grace with him. Just like the night at the hospital after Dean had been attacked by Alastair – when he said that the angels should have left him in Hell when they found out he had kick-started the apocalypse when he had used that razor the first time – he then added that, if the door to the apocalypse world couldn’t be open so they could go help Mary and Jack, there had been no point in him coming back at all. That had clearly been the straw that had broken the camel’s back. Dean was already under so much pressure that night. He had fought so hard to save apocalypse world Charlie. Because, Castiel knew, she was one of the people Dean still blamed himself for, just like he blamed himself for Kevin. In Dean’s eyes, Charlie had been another of those who paid with their life the affection and closeness they showed Dean. Even though it had been Charlie, an adult, smart woman, the one who had decided to become a hunter, even knowing how risky the job was.

What could be only be defined as paralyzing terror had gripped Castiel when he heard Dean say that. That there was no point in him being back. Dean not coming back was his worst nightmare.

Might it be that Castiel not coming back could be Dean’s? Might it be _that_ was what his prayer was meant to convey?

Should Castiel come back? Try and see if he could work with Dean to find a way to mend their relationship, mend it for real, rather than giving up like he had done on his last day at the bunker? So that they could go back to being the source of each other’s strength, rather than of each other’s despair?

Hadn’t Castiel really not forgiven Dean yet? Dean was hurting about Mary, just like Castiel was hurting about Jack. Castiel knew he was. And Dean had _admitted_ to be constantly consumed by anger. “It’s always been there,” he had confessed. And how could it not? Everything in Dean’s life had gone sideways ever since he was four. Even though, knowing what they knew about the deal Mary had sealed with Azazel, it would have been more correct to say Dean’s life had gone sideways before he was even born. “It isn’t blame that falls on you, Dean, but fate,” Castiel repeated now out loud.

How much hurt could someone face and swallow, before becoming prey to an all consuming anger? And to the sequence of unhealthy coping mechanisms, consequent bad decisions, subsequent regrets, and inevitable self-loathing that anger would jump start?

Castiel had had a reason, more than one even, to leave the bunker.

But why didn’t those reasons seem to matter now, not as much as going back and finding a healthy way to fix his relationship with the hunter? Maybe the distance had helped? Time healed all things, the saying went. Could it be that? Was that why Dean had been able to offer such an honest, heartfelt and heartwarming apology? He’d had enough time to think? Possibly talk to somebody?

Castiel had made his decision the moment Dean had stopped talking, hadn’t he? Thinking about everything they had been through together – something he had spent _months_ actively trying to never do – had only served one purpose. Reminding him that, in spite of all the immeasurable pain, despair, evil, even death, that had threatened to separate them, they were still in each other’s life. They still loved each other.

It was time to go back and see whether their relationship really was as irreparably broken as it had seemed that awful day. The day they lost Rowena and, Castiel had thought until ten minutes ago, Castiel had lost Dean forever.

His mind made up, Castiel stood up, walked to his closet and started packing a few essentials. The rent had been paid until the end of the month, so he had all the time to come back and take everything else, if things went well. And he’d have somewhere to go for once, if they didn’t.

He started thinking about how he would travel back to the bunker while he was pattering around the place after packing his bag. He’d have to remember to take out the trash and bring his perishables to the restaurant before leaving town, so the cooks could maybe use them to cook dinner for the staff. Renting a car seemed like the best course of action. He could take a bus to Milan or Grants and rent one there. Of course, that would tap into his savings considerably. Castiel couldn’t help taking a moment to muse over the fact that he even _had_ savings now. Which, by definition, he had saved for moments like this. This was Dean. If there was one good reason to give _everything_ he had, that was his righteous man.

He’d also have to call Jeff and tell him he’d need a few days off before showing up at the restaurant. Luckily, his absence would be less problematic to deal with for Castiel’s boss this time around. He had learnt from his past experience with Sue and, thanks to the fact that he was far less in need of money than he had been when he started working for her, had accepted a job with regular 8-hour shifts and a weekly day off. Which meant that there were other people covering the other shifts and they could cover for his absence. Castiel had done the same for them, he was sure they would do it for him this time.

He could never thank Àngel enough for helping him find this job.

A couple of days before he had left, the cook asked him where Castiel was going, and he replied that he had no idea, that he just couldn’t stay there any longer. His friend looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment and then shook his head, commenting on knowing far too well about the need to leave a place behind in no time.

“So you don’t have any specific place in mind. I mean, any place would do.”

“I suppose.”

“’Cause a pal of mine owns a restaurant in San Mateo, New Mexico. I could put in a word for you.”

At first, Castiel hadn’t been sure that was a good idea. New Mexico wasn’t exactly far away from Kansas. But he decided to give it a try in the end. San Mateo wasn’t close to the border either and, as isolated and tiny as it was, it wasn’t a place the Winchesters might end up in by accident. Castiel had only to hope that nothing supernatural would attract their attention. Or that he could find out about it and deal with it himself, before they had any reason to get involved. Plus, he liked the name of the place. Saint Matthew was what Dean, and Àngel too, would have defined as a “cool dude”. It was comforting to go to a place named after him. So the following day he told Àngel he had thought about it and he’d be grateful if he could call his friend. He then added, with a twisting feeling in his stomach that the angel suspected was shame, that he’d also be grateful if he could tell his friend that his name was Jimmy, not Castiel. Once again, the cook narrowed his eyes for a few moments and seemed to think it through, before replying “Sure thing, Jimmy.” Àngel _very clearly_ knew far too well about the need to leave a place behind in no time. Castiel knew most people would have found his choice of alias morbid. But he honestly didn’t. Castiel was well aware of everything Jimmy Novak had sacrificed for him, of everything Castiel had received in exchange of that sacrifice. Castiel’s gratitude towards Jimmy was endless. He thought of Jimmy constantly. Choosing to go by his name was a means to honor that. 

Three days after that conversation, he was on his way to his new town. How different had it been to get to a new place knowing that there was a job, and people, waiting for him. His new boss had even helped him find his tiny, but nice and clean, apartment, and he even got a small discount on the rent for that, because his landlord and his boss were childhood friends. Not such a difficult concept to grasp in a town of a few hundred people. And he certainly couldn’t say that he was regretting his choice now, knowing it would take him far less to get to Lebanon from here than it would have taken him from Alaska or some other place equally distant. 

With a clear plan in mind, he started ticking items off his to-do list until he found himself behind the wheel of his rental car. How was Dean going to tease him for it. Castiel found himself smiling at the thought. He so hoped Dean would tease him for the pretty awful, but totally affordable, car he had rented to go back to him. He’d have to be happy to see him to do that, right?

He spent the first leg of the journey with his thoughts, or just generally enjoying the view. After a while though, the silence and the open roads started to seem endless, so he decided to pull over first chance he got, take a break, and then go back behind the wheel.

Before restarting the car, however, he decided to select a playlist to keep him company. Maggie had shown him that there was this playlist on his app called Discover Weekly that played new music every week. And Castiel thought that was a great idea. He had so much to learn about music, and that was a an amazing way of doing it. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t still listen to his favorite songs often. He was very similar to Dean in that respect, he had found.

As soon as music started playing, Castiel felt a smile spreading over his face, and turned the car on with renewed vigor.

He liked most songs he was listening to. The playlist, Maggie had told him, was based on the kind of music he usually listened to, so that wasn’t a surprise as much as a pleasant confirmation.

The next song that started playing made him chuckle in spite of himself.

_Run and tell all of the angels_

_This could take all night_

_Think I need a devil to help me get things right_

Oh, how reminiscent were those lines of so many of Castiel’s past endeavors. Or mistakes. It all depended on where you looked at them from.

Then the chuckle died on his lips.

_I'm looking for a complication_

_Looking 'cause I'm tired of lying_

_Make my way back home when I learn to fly high._

Had the person who had written this song read Castiel’s mind? What Castiel was doing right now would complicate things, wouldn’t it? He _had_ moved on. He had a job, an apartment, in a tiny town which ranked so much better than most areas in terms of livability. He had friends. That he had made on his own. Going back now would make everything complicated again, one way or another. Yet, he was doing it because he wanted to find his way back home. He _was_ tired of lying and tell himself it wasn’t so. As for learning to fly high… Well, as Dean would say, ‘been there, done that.’ Castiel had flown as high as he possibly could. Even far higher than his station, when he foolishly believed he could be the new God this planet needed. A job he had absolutely sucked at, by the way. Being able to fly hadn’t helped him keep his home and his family. Maybe, it was no coincidence that he was now going back precisely when he was still unable to fly.

_I'd give it all away if you give me one last try_

_We'll live happily ever trapped if you just save my life_

_Run and tell the angels that everything's alright..._

Or maybe, he just needed to learn to fly differently? Maybe, with Dean, if they could give each other one last try, Castiel _could_ learn to fly even while still anchored to the ground by gravity? Castiel would gladly live happily ever trapped with Dean for all eternity. And he would gladly do without having to see another angel for just as long. He snorted a laugh when he realized that not seeing him ever again would make the other angels aware that everything _was_ alright. It was usually when they saw Castiel that the other angels started to worry something was wrong, rather than when they didn’t see him. 

The song had finished while he was trapped in his own thoughts and a new one had begun, and Castiel made a mental note to check the playlist later and make sure he saved that song in his ‘liked’ playlist.

“See that heart there? Just clicked on it and you’ll save the song as a favorite one”, Maggie had taught him the day before he left when he had shown up with his brand new phone. 

“Oh, the heart because you love with your heart, so that means you love the song? That’s clever.”

Castiel had actually been so proud of having made the connection that when he turned, smiling, to Maggie, he wasn’t expecting the fond look in her eyes. She was usually proud of him in similar circumstances. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Cas. Promise you won’t be a stranger?”

Castiel could feel the tears gathering in his eyes. He was getting more and more used to his human reactions, and was embracing them even. It was so good to feel that he would be missed. The last time he had left a place he had considered like home, he hadn’t been so sure he would be.

“Of course, Maggie. I promise. That’s why I bought the phone before leaving, so we can exchange numbers and stay in touch, yes?”

_But there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears._

_And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears._

_Get over your hill and see what you find there,_

_With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair._

The lyrics caught Castiel’s attention and brought him back to reality. This song was much slower than the one he was listening to before his mind decided to wonder back to the morning Maggie taught him about Spotify. It was… comforting. Castiel had noticed most slow songs were sad. This one seemed to mean to convey hope instead. The possibility of new beginnings, better beginnings, after dark times. “After the storm” was the phrase most commonly repeated, and Castiel had learnt that usually meant it was the title of the song. He hoped it was, in this case. It was fitting. Castiel hoped it would be fitting for him and Dean too. He really, truly hoped the storm was behind them. That they could finally have times when no tears would need to be shed, and they could enjoy some sunshine raining down on the flowers. That Dean would let Castiel’s grace enter his heart, like Castiel had let Dean’s soul enter his. That their love wouldn’t break Dean’s heart, or Castiel’s, any longer, but it would help their fears dissipate.

He could only sigh at the thought. That was what Castiel really wanted, wasn’t it? He wasn’t going back to Lebanon to go back to the bunker, or hunting. He wasn’t coming back because he needed a place to stay, or he missed Sam. He honestly didn’t miss hunting. And even though the idea of seeing Sam again was making him happier and happier by the minute, he had always been in touch with the younger Winchester, and could have arranged to meet him any time. And he didn’t need a place to stay. He had a place to stay, one that he even liked. No, he was going back for his hunter. He was going back for his love.

When the door to the bunker came into view, Castiel’s heart started beating faster. His human reactions had definitely increased in intensity and number. He killed the engine, and took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the bunker door. He grabbed his phone, turned off the music and pocketed it. He exited the car, retrieved his bag from the back seat, and locked it. He started walking towards the door, taking measured steps, trying to bring the beating of his heart back under control. He raised his hand to knock but found that he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it. He refused to knock on the door of what used to be his house. Not his home. His house. Dean was his home. Always had been. 

So he took his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie and dialed Dean’s number.

“Hello?”

“Hello Dean.”

“Cas? Cas, I need to say something.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean, I heard your prayer. I’m outside the bunker door.”

The line went dead and not even a couple of seconds later Castiel could hear the heavy steps of someone running up the stairs.

And then the door sprung open with that irritating sound that should have been awful and annoying but it was like music to Castiel’s ears now. 

Dean’s face was… perfect. His eyes were wide, his mouth open in disbelief, the bags under his eyes dark, the freckles on his nose golden.

He was beautiful.

Dean seemed to get free of his momentary paralysis after a few moments and launched himself at Castiel, hugging him tight, his breath shaky, his arms like vices around the angel.

“Cas-“

“Shhh, Dean, it’s ok. We’ve got time.”

Dean took half a step back, his arms still around Castiel’s shoulders, Castiel’s arms still around Dean’s waist. The hunter seemed almost… disappointed? Like he had to visibly force himself not to say more? Could it be that...?

Castiel doubted that.

He couldn’t believe the day when Dean would confess his love would ever come. Whenever that thought would come knock on the door of Castiel’s mind, he always tried to fight the sorrow it caused by telling himself that maybe that was for the best anyway. If any stretch of time spent apart had taught him anything, it was that it was excruciating to be away from Dean. And he had never even had him. What if Castiel did, and then lost him again?

On the other hand, did Castiel want Dean to finally confess his feelings out of regret, when he was emotionally shaken, rather than as a consciously made decision to start a relationship with him no matter what? No, he wanted the hunter to give himself to Castiel freely, and wholeheartedly.

And Castiel himself still had the deal with the Empty hanging on his head.

There was still too much they had to work through, before even thinking about starting a romantic relationship. _If_ they would ever even consider going there. And it was a big if.

But if they ever wanted a shot at that, the only way was to stick together and try to fix what was broken. Dean had even said that, “Yes, dumbass. We. You, me, and Sam, we're just better together,” the one time Castiel had awkwardly tried to give him back the mixtape he had made for him as a self-punishing act for letting Dean down again. He had been so confused about the mixtape at first. He had accepted it and thanked Dean, because, even in his ignorance of the specific act, he had by then realized that when a human gave you something, especially something they themselves had made, it was significant. That they were trying to create closeness. And Castiel had been so happy at the idea of Dean wanting them to be closer. To be sure, the angel had asked Sam about it. He had felt slightly guilty about telling him a white lie – that he had seen it on TV and was confused about it – but he didn’t think Dean would have appreciated him telling his brother, considering the hunter had clearly waited for Sam to go for his run before approaching Castiel with the tape. Sam’s reply had stunned Castiel into silence. “It’s what humans do with other humans when they like them. I mean, like _like_ them. Because if you are passionate about something, you want to share it with the person you like. And you hope they like it too, so you can enjoy it together and bond over it.” Castiel knew that music was one of the few beautiful things Dean allowed himself to indulge in. And he had wanted to share it with him. His _favorite_ music. That was _so_ significant.

Which is why Castiel couldn’t wait to go check what used to be his room in the bunker and see whether the mixtape was still there. The very idea that Dean might have trashed the room in his rage after Castiel had left made the angel shudder. He really hoped Dean hadn’t. But he would understand if he had. He was here to give them ‘one last try’, and see if Dean was amenable to do the same. Reproaching each other wasn’t the way. They had already demonstrated they were very good at that. This was the time to forgive – _really_ forgive – and start communicating with honesty, as hard as that would be.

Castiel could start by sharing this little piece of truth with Dean, couldn’t he? Be honest with both himself and the hunter and tell him that the reason why Castiel had embraced Maggie’s love of music while they were becoming friends was, in fact, Dean. He would have resolutely refused to admit that back then, considering thinking – or talking – about Dean was not an option. He would have probably claimed the reason was that he was embracing humanity in its most outstanding achievements. But that wouldn’t have been able to explain why the thirteen tracks on Dean’s mixtape were constantly among the most listened to songs on his phone. Maybe… maybe if things went well, Castiel could make Dean a mixtape with all the new music he had found that he particularly loved? Those two songs he had listened to on his car ride back would definitely go in there. Of course, he had no idea where to even begin, and Maggie was definitely too young to teach him. Perhaps, he could ask Sam for help? He’d think of something to tell him. Or maybe… he could ask Dean himself? Tell him the truth and ask for a “tutorial”, like Maggie would say. It was probably high time they stopped doing things for each other without telling each other. This small, yet so significant, thing could be a good place to start.

That being so significant was also why Castiel had tried to give the mixtape back that time. Dean was disappointed and hurt and angry with him. And he had every right to be. So Castiel had tried to let him know, without actually telling him, that he understood if Dean no longer wanted them to be close.

What that situation and the current situation had in common? Castiel going away instead of staying. Castiel punishing himself thinking that he was doing the best thing for everyone, when he just needed to talk, even argue, with Dean.

When Castiel had left the bunker the last time, it was because Dean wouldn’t let him talk to him, even though he had tried, multiple times. That was what had made Castiel think that there was no hope for them. How could they move past it, if Dean wouldn’t so much as look him in the eye, let alone let him talk and actually listen? 

But he was ready now. They could talk now. He had implied so in his prayer. It would be far from easy. Even on a good day, Dean Winchester was anything but a willing communicator.

But he had told Castiel that he hoped he could hear him.

Castiel could.

And he had every intention to believe Dean would hear him in return.

**Author's Note:**

> The two songs are "Learn to Fly" by Foo Fighters and "After the storm" by Mumford and Sons. Beware tho, the Destiel is strong with these ones.
> 
> The Great Chain of Being (https://www.britannica.com/topic/Great-Chain-of-Being) is also something that actually exists and it's both fascinating and terrifying. And it seemed super fitting for this one.


End file.
